


All in the Family

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Biracial Couple, Compromise, Cultural Differences, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Father & Son - Freeform, Gifts, Love, Midwinter, Politics, Traditions, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 10:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13187850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Jon does not approve of Roald's Midwinter gift for Shinkokami. Sequel to "Red Luck" but can stand alone as well.





	All in the Family

All in the Family

It was Midwinter, one of the few times all year when the entire family was together, and Jon felt a proud patriarch. Glancing around the parlor crowded with the sons and daughters he’d had with Thayet, Jon thought himself as much a gardener as a father, growing a living green family tree with many branches and deep roots of a Conte line that had been reduced to a single stump—him—at the start of his reign. When he was crowned, even he had questioned whether his dynasty would survive, but, looking around at his children, he saw the breathing legacies that were more important to the kingdom than any laws or reforms he could implement. His children would be what truly endured from his and Thayet’s rule. 

Curled up in a blanket by the flaming fire in the hearth, Vania cuddled with her lapdog, a floppy-eared, fluffy puppy from the Cavall kennels that she had begged for this Midwinter and was now showering with kisses on the snout. Whenever the puppy responded to her affections with a flick of its pink tongue across her nose, she squealed and giggled. 

In an armchair above Vania sat Jasson, who had returned to Corus with his knightmaster a week ago. By the flickering light of the fire, he read a book on some doubtlessly arcane subject. Jon might have scolded him for burying his nose in a book and holding himself aloof from the family gathering if he didn’t understand that Jasson was involving himself in the family scene in his own particular fashion. This fashion mainly entailed listening to the ebb of the conversation enough to make a caustic comment whenever someone offered a remark he regarded as dim-witted or to interject with a quick correction if somebody stated an inaccurate fact. 

Opposite Jasson in another armchair, Lianne played carols from the Yamani Islands that Shinkokami had taught her on a new lute she had received for Midwinter. The music was soft and soothing, suiting quiet Lianne perfectly. 

On a sofa across from Jon and Thayet, Shinkokami herself held hands with Roald. The two of them were always touching and exchanging glances as if they couldn’t bear to be separated from one another or not to see each other. Their mutual devotion was obvious sen if their passion remained characteristically understated. 

Roald talked to Liam, who had come back to Corus a week before Jasson and had likewise been granted free time by his knightmaster, about his training. Concerns of combat were Liam’s favorite topic, and he made many animated gestures as he described his adventures to Roald. 

While Roald listened to Liam expound at length on such martial matters, Shinkokami admired the opal hanging from the shining silver necklace around Kalasin’s neck. Kalasin glowed like the jewel around her throat at Shinkokami’s compliments, and Jon should have felt happy watching her delight in the jewelry she had gotten for Midwinter. Instead he felt melancholy. The necklace had been another lavish gift from Emperor Kaddar to his betrothed, which made it a stark reminder that this would be Kalasin’s last Midwinter with her family. When he blinked, he thought he could see the little girl she had been jumping with excitement when she received her first pony on a cold Midwinter morning, but when he opened his eyes again, he saw her entrenched in discussion about wedding plans with Shinkokami, and he remembered that there would soon be an ocean between them. 

Perhaps Thayet was also musing on marriages since she said during a pause in Shinkokami and Kalasin’s conversation, “Shinko dear, in the new year, we must visit a dressmaker and have you fitted for a wedding gown.” 

“Thank you for the kind invitation, Your Majesty.” Shinkokami bowed her head so that her curtain of ink black hair hid her face. “That won’t be necessary. My betrothed has already hired a dressmaker who had begun work.” 

This was a shock to Jon, who had expected Thayet to be involved in the dress selection to ensure nothing that would affront the conservatives—adding insult to the injury of a foreign marriage—was picked. He supposed that this was Roald asserting independence and recalling his own acts of rebellion such as sneaking behind enemy lines figured that he was favored by the gods if this was the worst revolt his heir committed against him. After all, knowing how diplomatic Shinkokami and Roald were, the dress selection was likely to be absolutely uncontroversial to anyone. Probably it would be if anything more traditional than what Thayet would have suggested. 

“Which dressmaker did you employ?” Thayet’s smooth tone made it clear that she had recovered from any surprise she might have felt at Shinkokami’s revelation. 

“Lalasa Isran, Your Majesty,” answered Shinkokami. 

“Mama has employed her services in the past,” Kalasin chimed in. “Haven’t you, Mama?” 

“I have.” Thayet nodded. “I was satisfied with her work. She’s a very skilled seamstress.” 

“Then I think it’s a brilliant idea.” Kalasin spoke decisively, and Jon noted inwardly that it wasn’t a shock she had reached this verdict. Whenever fault lines cracked the family, she and Roald stood on the same side. They were one another’s staunchest supporters in any family feud, each always insisting that the other was right (no matter how wrong). If they held each other accountable for any insanity, it was apparently behind closed doors so they could present a united front in any battle. None of his other children shared such a bond: Vania and Lianne were as swift to argue as they were to agree, while Liam and Jasson’s relationship could best be described as one gigantic competition. “Someone we trust has been hired, she’ll do a beautiful job, and didn’t she used to be a maid before she opened her own shop? She’s risen in the world through her own determination, and the Crown should recognize her for that.” 

“Exactly.” Roald shot his sister an unmistakably grateful look. “We wish to reward her industriousness with our patronage.” 

“The decision to employ Lalasa Isran isn’t a problem,” said Thayet, and mentally Jon agreed. If Lalasa Isran was seamstress, there could be a reasonable certainty that Shinkokami wouldn’t show up to her wedding in rags. “What is the color and design of the dress, Shinko?” 

Shinkokami fiddled with the ever-present fan in her lap and replied in an almost whisper, “It’s a kimono, Your Majesty. Red for luck with embroidered phoenixes to represent new beginnings.” 

Jon’s temper flared because a kimono was rubbing salt in the festering wound the conservatives felt over a Tortallan heir taking a Yamani wife. Glaring at his eldest son, he demanded tersely, “You couldn’t have decided on something more traditional with the whole wide world of dresses before you?” 

A frowning Roald opened his mouth to respond but was cut off before he could begin by a pedantic Jasson, who pointed out, “Papa, a red wedding kimono is a tradition that dates back centuries in the Yamani Islands. It would be inaccurate to refer to a red wedding kimono as anything but traditional even if it isn’t our tradition.” 

“I was talking about our traditions, Jasson.” Jon fixed his glower on another rebellious son, noting that they seemed to be multiplying by the minute. “I also wasn’t talking to you.” 

“You sounded as if you were addressing the room in general.” Jasson’s eyes were hard as emeralds as they rose from his book at last. “Everyone could hear you, Papa, so forgive me for assuming that your remark was intended for everybody present.” 

Suddenly Jon realized that the room was silent with tension so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Lianne’s lute had faded in mid-note, and somehow that drew Jon’s attention to the fractured peace in his family more effectively than anything else. Reeling over how ironic it was that placid Roald had provoked such discord, Jon pushed himself abruptly to his feet, asking perfunctorily, “Might I have a word with you in private, Roald?”

He knew that his oldest child wouldn’t refuse, and Roald didn’t, following Jon out of the parlor and down the hallway to Jon’s study. 

Jon lit the candles on his deck with trembling fingers, taking advantage of the chance to control his anger before confronting his son. Once they had settled into the chairs in front of his desk, Jon observed, jaw so tight it ached, “You ordered a kimono for your bride to wear on your wedding day.” 

“My bride is Yamani, and as Jasson pointed out, a red kimono is the tradition in the Yamani Islands.” Roald’s chin lifted in a resolute fashion Jon knew his heir had inherited from him. “I want my Yamani bride to truly be my Yamani bride on our wedding day.” 

“That’s very romantic, Roald.” Jon prayed for patience from any listening and benevolently disposed deity. “The problem is that your Yamani bride being Yamani offends many conservatives, and a kimono would only be rubbing in their faces a fact that they regard as distasteful. It’s simply not diplomatic.” 

“I’m sorry to offend the conservatives, but I’m marrying Shinko, not them.” Roald seemed to have found ground on which to dig in his feels. “Of course I’ll be willing to compromise with them in such matters decorations, members of the wedding party, and the food and seating arrangements at the banquet. However, what Shinko wears to the wedding is entirely her choice and isn’t open to compromise.” 

“That’s not going to be nearly enough to appease the conservatives, son.” Jon pinched the bridge of his nose and told himself that his mounting migraine was nothing compared to the headache the king of Tusaine must be dealing with since his heir had used the Midwinter holiday as an opportunity to publicly refuse to marry the Gallan princess picked out for him. At least Roald was going to wed the woman his parents had selected for him even if he insisted that she wear a kimono when doing so. 

“What do you propose then, Papa?” Roald arched an eyebrow in another mannerism Jon knew came from him. 

“I propose that Shinkokami wear the kimono to your wedding but that she don an Eastern style gown for the banquet.” Jon steepled his fingers. “On a political level, this placates the conservatives. On a symbolic level, she changes allegiance from her native land to her husband’s. That would have theatric and political appeal.” 

“It would.” Roald considered this and then went on, “I wouldn’t have an objection, but I can’t agree without consulting Shinko. What she wears on her wedding day must be her decision.” 

“Of course.” Jon nodded, confident that Shinkokami, who had a shrewd political mind behind her polite questions and soft comments would understand the necessity of the compromise Jon proposed. “You must consult with Shinkokami.” 

“Papa.” Roald sounded hesitant so Jon waved a palm to encourage him to continue. “I apologize for not consulting with you and Mama before ordering the kimono for Shinko. It was wrong of me to act behind your back.” 

“How wrong it was would probably depend on your objective.” With a wry grin, Jon reclined in his chair. “If you wanted Shinkokami to be able to wear her kimono to the wedding, you went about it the right way, because I would’ve forbidden it if you’d asked permission before ordering the job.” 

“But you thought of a good solution that would allow her to wear it.” Roald’s forehead furrowed. 

“Yes, but only as damage control. I would never have thought of it otherwise.” Jon’s grin grew more crooked. “All of my brightest ideas seem to arise from mitigating disasters.” 

“I’m surprised you aren’t furious at me, Papa.” Roald shot Jon a sidelong glance that made it plain he had been bracing himself for an onslaught of his father’s wrath. “I shouldn’t have gone behind your back. That was more disrespectful than openly defying you.” 

“I understand what you did too much to be furious about it.” Jon squeezed his son’s shoulder. “If you had ordered Shinkokami’s kimono to spite me, then I would’ve been furious at you, but I know that you ordered the kimono because you love Shinkokami and want to make her happy. I want you to love Shinkokami so I can’t be furious about that.” 

“I love Shinko, but I also love you and Mama, Papa. I won’t go behind your backs again,” Roald promised, and Jon believed him.


End file.
